


Treat You Right

by foxseal



Category: Wanna One (Band)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Exhibitionism, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Mirror Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Riding, kind of, slight - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-26
Updated: 2018-11-26
Packaged: 2019-08-29 14:13:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16745524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxseal/pseuds/foxseal
Summary: Seongwoo wants to help Minhyun see something in himself he so staunchly denies.





	Treat You Right

**Author's Note:**

> ☆ title from the song by honne of the same name!  
> ☆ this turned out to be more emotional than i intended wtf  
> ☆ also it is my first pwp so pls be gentle with me no pun intended u_u

Saturday mornings are Seongwoo’s favourite. Always have been, ever since he saddled himself to a grueling, albeit steady, corporate job and came to the realisation that two days of absolute self-sovereignty are a luxury no money can buy. Because more often than not, he gets to lounge an extra hour or two in bed with a certain warm body next to his, feel the delicious ache of the previous night's pursuits ripple through his limbs, watch the sun spill in through the floor-to-ceiling window of their apartment bedroom and taste the sweet flavour of self-satisfaction.

Self-satisfaction that's only amplified tenfold whenever he gets to wake up to Minhyun still deep in slumber, who is sprawled face-first into his pillow, much to Seongwoo’s amusement. He's never been a very attractive sleeper, but today his broad back is soaking in the afternoon sunshine, all fine muscles rippling with every minute movement under an endless expanse of pale skin, splayed out in the open air like it’s Seongwoo’s for the taking.

And so take, he does.

“Ugh— _babe,”_ Seongwoo hears a groan as soon as he presses lips onto bare skin. Minhyun’s morning voice is hoarse, and Seongwoo wants to hear more of it—instead of letting go he clamps down harder on the jut of Minhyun’s shoulder and swipes a tongue over the red, bitten skin lovingly, earning yet another groan. “It’s too _early_.”

Seongwoo snorts, still mouthing at the worried spot, eyes fluttering closed as he tastes salt and sex on Minhyun’s skin from their activities the night prior. “It’s almost two in the afternoon, sweetheart.”

Minhyun would have shot right out of the bed if it weren’t for Seongwoo’s arms quickly wrapping around his torso, anchoring him down to the mattress.

 _“Two?_ ” When he turns around to fix Seongwoo with an accusing glare, there are lines on his cheeks from where the sheets pressed up against them and his hair is sticking up on ends. “Oh my god, you let me _sleep through my alarm_."

Seongwoo ignores the annoyed glare, drags a hand down Minhyun's back and thinks, with both fear and amazement, that he will never love anyone as much as he loves Minhyun right at that moment.

“Your alarm was set for the unholy hour of _eight a.m._ On a _Saturday_ morning _._ Come on, Minhyunnnie, what do you have to do that can’t wait until tomorrow?” Seongwoo slowly reels him back onto the pillows, pulls and nudges until they’re lying on their sides. Scoots closer until he can feel Minhyun’s breath tickling his face. “You need to learn how to _relax_.”

“I think I’ve been doing too much of that since I met you,” mumbles Minhyun, nudging Seongwoo’s nose with his and pressing a fleeting kiss on his top lip. Then he groans. “You’re bad for me and my work ethic, Ong Seongwoo.”

“Complain again and I’ll start thinking you hate spending time with me,” grins Seongwoo, pinching the skin of Minhyun’s hipbone lightly and relishing in the surprised twitch Minhyun gives.

Of course, Minhyun chooses to retaliate in the most childish way possible—by counter-wrestling out of Seongwoo’s hold and pulling him up until he’s straddling Minhyun’s lap, hands gripping his bare shoulders and both of them breathless with laughter. On a normal day Seongwoo always feels like he can’t be in close proximity of Minhyun without climbing on top of him and getting his hands on every inch of exposed skin he can reach—he’s glad the sentiment seems to be somewhat mutual.

Slowly, he drags the hands on Minhyun’s shoulders up, caressing the sides of his neck and gently framing his still sleep-smeared face and marveling, like Seongwoo has done on so many occasions, the seemingly perfect sculpting of Minhyun’s features.

Shivers run down Seongwoo’s back when Minhyun turns his head and presses a light kiss on his palm. “What are you looking at?” he asks, a line through his brow as if in concern.

“The huge cockroach crawling across your forehead,” replies Seongwoo, deadpan. When Minhyun goes rigid with alarm, he rolls his eyes in exasperated fondness. “ _Obviously_ I’m staring at you, Minhyun.”

Instead of the self-satisfied glee Seongwoo would harbour if anyone were to tell him the same thing, red cascades down Minhyun’s throat at an alarming speed. He peels Seongwoo’s hands away from his face, expression a mixture of embarrassment and apprehension.

“Oh—shoot,” Minhyun self-consciously cards a hand through his light brown, rucked up messy strands of hair, oblivious to the way pride blooms in Seongwoo’s chest from knowing that _he_ is the one to blame. “Sorry—I was so out of it, I look terrible.”

Gaping, Seongwoo stares at him like he’s grown a third head. When he realises that Minhyun is being serious, something hot and fiery flares in his chest—and in one measured motion Seongwoo grabs his wrists, pins them to the bed by his head and brings his lips close to Minhyun’s ear.

“Yeah, you do. Terrib- _ly_ sated, content, debauched, well-fucked,” he says, dragging his lips down all over the hot, slumber-warm skin of Minhyun’s throat and the flutter of his pulse, “And horrendously beautiful.”

“Hmm. You’re a sweet talker.”

“Not talking sweet, babe,” he murmurs inbetween pecks on the side of his neck. “Jus’ tellin’ the truth.”

Fingers ghost along Seongwoo’s back to grip his shoulders, and Seongwoo makes a mental note to edge Minhyun far enough for his grip to leave bruises later. “You’re ridiculous, stop fibbing.”

“You calling me a _liar_?”

“No, I’m calling you a fibber. In the best way possible,” adds Minhyun hastily once he sees the scandalised expression Seongwoo has on, before he’s reaching out with curled fingers once again. “Now, come _here_ —“

“Nu-uh, not until we settle this,” Seongwoo frowns, pulling away. “I’d _never_ lie to you, Minhyun. Or fib, or whatever.”

“You can always sugar coat. And I don’t mind that, you know—you can tell me whenever I don’t look… presentable.”

For someone who usually has no trouble indulging in his own vanity, being well-fucked seems to render Minhyun’s self-awareness near useless, and Seongwoo is getting frustrated.

He rolls his hips experimentally, smug at the hitch in Minhyun’s steady breath. “Listen carefully, Hwang Minhyun,” he commands. “You are. Without a doubt. The most _beautiful_ person I’ve ever laid eyes upon.”

“Thank you.”

He drops his hips a little harder, wanting to pull out more than a soft moan from Minhyun’s still sleep-ridden voice. “You don’t sound very convinced.”

Despite still maintaining full command of his speech, Minhyun’s hips seem to be moving on its own accord, pressing up against Seongwoo’s and chasing friction. “I mean, it may be true because for you, there’s— _ah_ —subjectivity bias. But next to you…” Minhyun lets out a sigh, then smiles softly. “Next to you, I’m just. Normal.”

Minhyun’s phrasing of his refusals is so matter-of-fact that it’s obvious he isn’t fishing for compliments—but it’s the fact that he is acutely, painfully unaware of having the power to rob Seongwoo of his rationality, his very self-autonomy that makes something in Seongwoo heat up, boil over, spill out—and snap.

“Unbelievable,” Seongwoo snarls before dipping down to bite the side of Minhyun’s neck, insistent on leaving some pretty, purple bruises that won’t fade for days. He hears Minhyun’s answering moan that sends sparks down his spine, edging Seongwoo on to plant rough, open-mouthed kisses along his collarbones, across the jut of his shoulders, down to his chest. Seongwoo shoves Minhyun’s hips down with one hand when he tries to buck up, writhing and hissing quietly under the ministrations, and uses his free hand to thumb at one of Minhyun’s nipples. He watches Minhyun's jaw fall open in a silent scream as he flattens a tongue over the other nipple and sucks on it, feels it stiffen under his lips and warm, heaving breath.

“You—are not just _normal_ , Minhyun,” he pants, rolling the hardened nub between his fingers and letting it go just as Minhyun’s back arcs beautifully. Using his arms as leverage, Seongwoo cants his hips upwards again in a slow, rolling motion, letting Minhyun feel his still-clothed hard-on all along his thigh. “Why do you think I’m like _this?_  Why I can’t control myself around you? Because of your _intelligence_?”

The sounds Minhyun lets out may have been the early attempts of a laugh, but end up being a long-drawn out gasp instead. “R—rude. I’m _smart_.”

“No, you’re an _idiot,_ ” he stresses with a particularly hard thrust—the sudden pressure makes Minhyun jump, and he grabs Seongwoo’s shoulders for purchase as his boyfriend repeats the motion relentlessly, this time harder, rocking both of them against the bed. “Because you can’t—you _won’t_ —see just how amazing, charming, drop-dead-gorgeous you are.”  

“S-Seongwoo— _ah—"_

His entire body goes tense as a shiver runs down his back. Seongwoo’s heard his name in a few people’s moans, gasps, screams, _begs_ —but none of them can bring Seongwoo so close to the edge like Minhyun does. No one says Seongwoo's name so desperately, barely louder than a whisper but with such intensity that he can feel the breath rattling through Minhyun’s chest with every exhale. He’s always sounds so soft and reverent, almost prudent—says every syllable of _Ong Seongwoo_ like a prayer, or a secret he wants to keep between them. Says it even when he’s choking back a moan as Seongwoo grabs his ass with a burning palm, having shoved Minhyun's jeans just far enough down his thighs to expose a sliver of pale, porcelain skin; slips it in between the garbled mess of nonsense he says into Seongwoo's ear as his pace gets more frantic, as their legs tangle together in the enthusiasm. Sometimes he can’t believe he has this privilege—of being the one to reduce Hwang Minhyun, usually so put together, down to an incoherent mess.

And he has no idea why Minhyun has such a hard time believing it is exactly that—a privilege.

“Seongwoo, Seongwoo, _please—“_

It’s starting to make him feel heady, the way Minhyun keeps chanting his name over and over again, completely oblivious to its power—even though Seongwoo’s got Minhyun pinned to the bed by the wrists, he’s the one who feels defenceless against the constant verbal ministrations. Spurred on by the heat thrumming through his very bones, Seongwoo dips down again and bites at the skin of his pectorals so hard Minhyun yells and throws a hand across his eyes, the other finding purchase in Seongwoo’s short strands.

“S-Seongwoo—ah— _god—_ “

 _Bite, suck, lick_ —he repeats the motions all across Minhyun’s chest, and when Seongwoo finally lifts his head to take a heaving breath he gives himself a second to marvel at the smattering of red across Minhyun’s exposed skin—small, but angry-looking love bites, so pretty against the pale pink where the blush has traveled down to his chest. Pride blooms in his chest like petals in early spring, and his hips slow down to a stop as he lets both of them catch their breaths, buy some time—try not to come embarrassingly quick in his pants as he does nothing but _admire_ the sight before him.

“So pretty,” he murmurs, instinctively dragging a hand down Minhyun's smooth skin and across the hard ridges of his torso. A hand curls around Seongwoo’s wrist to keep it in place.

“Yeah, you are.”

“You’re not even looking at me.”

Minhyun honest-to-god _whimpers._ “I can’t look at you now—I might come.”

“That’s not true,” he laughs, letting his eyes roam all over Minhyun’s body—and it takes his breath away, because Minhyun like this is an absolute masterpiece; squirming on the bedsheets, face and neck a delicious shade of crimson, chest peppered with hickeys and covered in a sheen of sweat, jeans haphazardly pulled down his thighs to reveal his painful-looking tented trousers. “Look at you,” he murmurs, brushing the flyaway strands of hair away from Minhyun’s forehead. “How... how can you think you’re anything less than divine?”

Finally, Minhyun opens his eyes with a shuddering exhale—and Seongwoo sees it, the way Minhyun looks at him with such adoration and a glimmer in his eyes, like Seongwoo hung the moon and Minhyun wants to fall into his orbit. Time seems to slow down momentarily as he pulls Seongwoo in softly by the back of his neck, plastering their mouths together with a distressed, breathy sound.

“How could I ever measure up to you?”

If an open flame is what it takes to set off a ticking bomb, then those very words is the open flame, and Seongwoo’s frustration the ticking bomb. He swears his vision whites out with a mixture of despair, irritation and a tad bit of anger—his head snaps up, and an idea comes to his head.

“Off the bed. Now.”

He pulls away abruptly, pulling the covers off the bed with him and leaving Minhyun stripped almost bare naked, blinking in confusion.

“Wh-what?” he sounds so disoriented that if Seongwoo wasn’t so keyed up, he’d find it adorable.

“Off. The bed.”

Minhyun knows a commanding voice when he hears it—he nearly scrambles off in his haste, rolling off ungraciously and standing on shaky legs, cock still looking painfully hard in his underwear. He stumbles over to Seongwoo, hands reaching out to clutch at him—but Seongwoo stops him with an arm.

“No,” he says sternly, before steering him along the room, nudging him forward, until he’s cradling Minhyun from behind and they’re both standing right in front of the—

“Window. Hands on the window.”

Minhyun whips his head around, eyes wide. “Really?”

Seongwoo stops. “Y-yes?” Seongwoo’s voice dips down a volume, suddenly hesitant, his touch gentle as he caresses Minhyun’s hip. “Is—Is this okay with you?”

He feels the shudder coursing through Minhyun before another hand curls over his, pinning his fingers almost painfully hard onto warm, warm skin. “Yes, Seongwoo. Yes.” Minhyun breathes, stretching back to press a fleeting, reassuring kiss on the side of Seongwoo’s face. “I just—this is just new. But yes—please, this is more than okay.”

Seongwoo only realises how tense he’s gotten when his shoulders sag in relief. He leans forward, snuggles into the crook of Minhyun’s neck to press a soft kiss there. “Okay, Minhyunnie, that’s good,” he breathes out. “But you _have_ to let me know if you want me to stop, okay?”

“Of course, love.”

“Promise?”

“ _Promise_. Now hurry up.” Minhyun leans forward and places his palms flat on the glass of the window, legs spreading wide as if in offering and making Seongwoo’s dick twitch in his underwear. “Starting to think you’re all talk and no action.”

Seongwoo curses, and without another moment’s pause he pulls Minhyun’s boxers down, to the floor, helping him step out of it before pulling off his own, tossing it somewhere in the room and glad Minhyun isn’t looking to chide him for the mess.

He puts a hand on the small of Minhyun’s back, lets it glide down to knead at his ass. “Think anyone can see you like this from up here?” he asks, breath fanning over Minhyun's ear.

Their apartment bedroom's floor-to-ceiling window overlooking the city is slightly tinted for privacy, so they wouldn’t really be visible from outside, especially being in one of the upper floors—but the illusion of exposure is enough.

“Probably.”

A finger travels down between Minhyun's cheeks, prods around to skim along his hole. “I’m going to make them see how beautiful you are.”

“But I’ll only be beautiful because you’re—“ Minhyun gasps when Seongwoo adds a bit of pressure, “—taking care of me.”

“No. Don't say that.” Seongwoo’s lips find Minhyun’s neck, and he licks it—Minhyun’s skin is addicting to taste, and Seongwoo can’t seem to stop wanting more of it. “Mmmm. Think they’d enjoy it? Seeing a practical Adonis getting fucked out of his mind?”

“I don’t care,” whines Minhyun, rocking back against Seongwoo’s dry finger. “I just care about what _you_ enjoy.”

“Fuck,” he groans as he guides Minhyun's head around to kiss him roughly, sucking on his bottom lips the way he’d done to his chest earlier. He pulls away from the kiss a short while later and takes a stumbling step back. “Wait there. I’ll be back. Don’t move.”

There’s a noise of protest, but Seongwoo is wrought with impatience as he launches himself at their bed, digging around under the pillows for the bottle of lube they’d neglected from last night. He wastes no time sidling back in place behind Minhyun, and realises that while Seongwoo was gone he’s been practically humping the window, a streaky mess clear on the glass.

“Did I not say don’t move?” he warns, to which Minhyun just lets out a soft, but no less frustrated breath.

“You took so long.”

“You’re so impatient,” he sighs, uncapping the lube bottle and drizzling a generous amount on his fingers, warming it up. “What am I going to do with you?”

Instead of a snarky reply like Seongwoo was expecting, Minhyun only pushes his ass out even further, back curving so enticingly.

“Anything.”

Blood rushes from his head to his cock—suddenly it’s hard to think straight, and Seongwoo has to bite his lip from moaning indecently loud. “Oh—god—Hwang Minhyun—“

“One name will do.”

Seongwoo answers his quip by slipping a finger into him without warning and both gasp—Minhyun from the sudden, but not unwelcome, intrusion, and Seongwoo from the unbearable warmth, the way Minhyun takes his finger so well, so soft and easy, pulling him past the first knuckle and clenching like he already can’t get enough.

“You okay?” he asks, holding himself back from fingering Minhyun eagerly.

“It’ll pass,” Minhyun hisses.

“You’re still so tight—even from last night,” Seongwoo can’t help but say aloud in wonder. He pulls out, pushes back in and crooks his finger—and his stomach drops at the sound Minhyun makes. It gets louder the faster he pushes back in, pulling out almost all the way before plunging back in.

Another finger joins in the one already in Minhyun’s ass, and Seongwoo works his fingers in and out slowly until the tense lines of Minhyun’s shoulders relax and his arms aren't straining so much—until he’s finally rocking back in time with Seongwoo’s movements, the lube squelching obscenely with each movement.

“Good?” Seongwoo murmurs, still cautious.

Minhyun only answers with a long, drawn-out moan, which Seongwoo takes as an encouragement to keep going, adding a third.

Small, soft _ah-ah_ s start to fill Seongwoo’s ears, echoing around the room, and it’s almost driving him insane until he musters up the courage to look at the window. Suddenly the tinted glass feels like a blessing sent from heaven—from over his shoulder, he can see Minhyun’s cock heavy between his legs, stiff and dripping with precum. His mouth is slack and his eyes are half-lidded—he looks so out of it already, and Seongwoo doesn’t know what else to think except _stunning, stunning, stunning._

His other hand slides up from Minhyun’s hips to gently tug at his strands, lifting his head up. “Look,” he whispers, timing it with a particular hard thrust of his that pushes Minhyun against the glass. “God—you shouldn’t even be real.”

“Yeah. So, so beautiful.” He sounds wrecked. Minhyun is staring at the makeshift mirror, but not at himself—he’s staring at Seongwoo.

Pulling back slightly, Seongwoo twists the fingers inside Minhyun’s ass and rubs up against the smooth, hot walls cradling him, pulling a strangled cry out of Minhyun when he brushes painfully close to his prostrate. Seongwoo keeps his fingers there—wants Minhyun to feel him inside and out, wants him to feel Seongwoo’s agony and want and admiration all at once.

“Not me. You. Look at yourself there.” He rests his chin on Minhyun’s left shoulder, staring at their reflections—at the flush staining Minhyun’s cheeks prettily, the burning tips of his ears, the beads of sweat trickling down his throat, red—splotchy like the rush of blood traveling as far down as his chest. “What do you think you look like?”

“A mess?” laughs Minhyun, licking his lips—from impatience or self-consciousness, Seongwoo can’t tell.

“That’s right,” he sighs, probing around until he feels the bundle of nerves on the tip of his fingers and rubs against it. “A beautiful, irresistible,  _fuckable_ mess.”

Minhyun cries out in pleasure, hips stuttering out of their own accord as Seongwoo mercilessly strokes his prostate over and over. “Seongwoo, _please_ ,” Minhyun begs. “Stop teasing, for god’s sake.” His hole clenches around Seongwoo's fingers, so hot and tight and perfect that it makes him swear under his breath.

He pulls out slowly, stroking the back of Minhyun’s thigh in apology when the other hisses at the loss. He retrieves the bottle he’d tossed and the ground clumsily slathering lube over his already leaking cock, hissing as he works a hand on himself.

“Don’t make a mess,” Minhyun has the audacity to warn, even in his disheveled state—and Seongwoo would laugh if he weren’t so turned on.

“A valuable advice; you’re a lot more attractive when you're not a smartass, Minhyunnie,” he says, before lining his dick up against Minhyun’s pink, fluttering hole and sliding home.

No matter how many times they’ve been in the position, Seongwoo’s always blown away by how perfect they are like this—how perfect it feels, that Seongwoo can barely get his wits together. He doesn’t think he’ll ever have someone’s body open up to him so easily like this, so pliantly and so _trusting_.

Heart pounding in amazement, he pulls Minhyun’s hips away from the window until his body is curving beautifully into Seongwoo’s, cock pressing deep into him in a way that makes both of them groan. Minhyun is shivering like a ruined mess under him, mouth hung open now and drool escaping its corner—his eyes are slipping shut out of his own volition. But he’s missing the whole point.

Seongwoo thrusts in harshly without warning, watching Minhyun’s eyes fly open in shock. “Watch us. Watch yourself,” he whispers, before pulling out thrusting into Minhyun slowly, shallowly, letting him get used to the feeling of being full again like an apology for the earlier harsh treatment.

Apparently Minhyun wants none of it.

“Faster,” he groans—and who’s Seongwoo to deny such a request?

He tightens his grip on Minhyun’s hip and straightens up slightly—then pulls out, only to slam into him hard and pull his ass back at the same time, Minhyun’s body rocking like a ship at sea. The choked-off noise Minhyun lets out is addictive—Seongwoo wants to hear it again, so he repeats the motion, fucking into Minhyun in earnest, cock twitching at the drag of Minhyun’s warm insides, pulsing with every clench of his asshole. They fall into a rhythm—at first, Minhyun tries to meet his thrusts, pushing back onto Seongwoo’s length, driving him in so deep with his forearms now resting on the glass. But then Seongwoo’s pace gets frantic and Minhyun has no choice but to take it all, being crowded up against the mirror, breath fogging up the glass, forehead only centimetres away from cold surface.

Seongwoo’s fingers find themselves around Minhyun’s pale, slender neck, caressing it before it reaches down to tip his chin up. “Who’s the beautiful one here?”

“You,” pants Minhyun without pause. “Always you.”

Seongwoo’s hips still, and Minhyun cries out in protest, rocking back desperately as he chases the throbbing, hot pleasure once again. “I’m not going to continue until you admit it, Minhyun.”

“Admit what?”

“Admit you look _good_.” Seongwoo nudges at his chin again, forces Minhyun to look at himself. “Say it. I want to hear you. How do you look?”

His pupils are blown wide, his hair is a mess, his usually thin, elegant lips red and puffy from all the biting and kissing. Anyone can tell he’s to die for.

“Sick. I look like I have a flu— _ah,_ “ Minhyun’s cheeky answer gets lost in a strangled moan when Seongwoo pulls at his hair just enough to be on the edge of pleasurable pain. “Seongwoo, please move—”

“Let me try again. Who looks beautiful—in that window?”

Minhyun's brows furrow, like he's trying desperately to concentrate on the sight reflected back to him. Seongwoo brushes his hair away from his face slowly, and he lets out an involuntary whine. “Me,” Minhyun gasps, eyes wide, staring into the mirror—if Seongwoo thought his cheeks couldn’t get any redder, he was mistaken.

His hips drive forwards into Minhyun again, half-unconsciously. “Are you just saying that to get me to fuck you?”

“No. I am beautiful. Us... it’s me—“ Minhyun moans, then whispers, “and you. Together.”

And this time it’s different—Seongwoo can feel it, the way Minhyun’s eyes flit between them in the mirror like he wants to take every second in, the heavy pant of his breath. He isn’t discrediting himself, like he was before—no. Here, it’s an admission of their compatibility; and admission that they’re infallible like this, picture-perfect, a memory neither will want to forget for years to come.

It has Seongwoo groaning into the back of Minhyun’s neck and his hips to haltingly push onto Minhyun’s ass again. “Hyun—Minhyunnie,” Seongwoo kisses up his neck until his lips brush the shell of Minhyun’s ear and says, with a voice wrought with desire, “I need… I need to _see_ you.”

And that’s all it takes for the strength to crumble away from Seongwoo’s visage—Minhyun pulls away, wincing at the sudden loss, spins around to face Seongwoo. His eyes are delirious with want, and Seongwoo wonders if he looks the same.

He definitely _feels_ insane with desire, skin electrifying as soon as Minhyun holds him again and, with a one-handed shove, backs him up until they both fall ungracefully onto the bed. Minhyun manhandles Seongwoo into leaning against the headrest, legs spread open. All Minhyun’s for the taking.

Seongwoo shudders when Minhyun’s long, slender fingers take hold of his hard-on and pushes him back up against his hole—his vision goes hazy when Minhyun clasps his shoulders and sinks down in one fell swoop, bottoming out with a loud gasp. Seongwoo moans—loud, guttural, the sound pulled out from the very base of his throat. He can get so deep like this, Minhyun so warm and wet all around him—when Minhyun lifts himself up by Seongwoo’s shoulders, the slide is so deliciously smooth it takes all of Seongwoo’s willpower not to buck right up into the hot, tight heat. Being the tease he is, Minhyun leaves only the tip of his cock inside before slamming back down, both of them groaning in unison.

“You can— _ah—_ touch me, you know.” Trust Minhyun to crack a joke as he’s bouncing on his boyfriend’s cock, driving it deeper and deeper with each down ward thrust and swivel of his hips. Pulling Seongwoo’s immobile hand onto his chest, Minhyun drags it down all the way from his nipples, along his barely-there abs flexing with every bounce upwards, and onto his thick, wet cock. “Isn’t that what you want?”

“Yes. _Yes,”_ Seongwoo groans as he finally pieces some semblance of motor command back—he wraps his hand around Minhyun’s length and strokes it. “I can’t take my eyes off of you.”

“The—feeling’s—mutual,” Minhyun smiles through his gasps, a smile which slips off just as quickly when Seongwoo thrusts up in time with his downward motion—he lets out a noise that has Seongwoo’s hair standing up on end. Ah, there—he’s found his prostrate again.

Seongwoo starts meeting his thrusts with abandon, hand still working on Minhyun’s cock frantically and then Minhyun’s lips are on his, words falling out of his mouth without rule, endearments spilling between the hot, damp, electric air between them, high-pitched _I love yous_ on the tip of their tongues that meet again and again in bruising kisses, quickly turning sloppy as Seongwoo’s moans get higher in pitch, louder in volume and Minhyun is chanting his name again like he’s fully at Seongwoo’s mercy.

Above him, Minhyun goes rigid, trembling like a live wire plugged in. “Seongwoo—“ and then an inhuman sound is wrenched out of him, and he comes, spilling all over Seongwoo’s hand and hips still moving erratically.

The sight of Minhyun possessed with utter bliss, the feeling of him going boneless and the clench around his cock is too much—Seongwoo fucks Minhyun through his orgasm, but can feel himself nearing the edge. “Minhyun—kiss me,” he pleads.

So Minhyun does, shoves his tongue back in Seongwoo’s mouth and he follows not long after. His whole body goes tense with pleasure and he moans out loud between their mouths as he sees white; he buries himself in Minhyun’s still pulsing ass, feels the leaking liquid of himself between Minhyun’s crack, over his cheeks, down his thighs.

They part breathlessly, and Minhyun slumps heavily over Seongwoo’s form. He nuzzles against Seongwoo's cheek before finding his place again in the crook of his neck, letting Seongwoo stroke his back gently, still coming down from his high. They stay motionless like that and lets several moments pass by them—for once, Seongwoo is at a loss for words.

After a while, his thighs start to ache and he imagines it can’t be comfortable for Minhyun to remain half-folded up like that, either. He rolls them over so they lie side to side and gently pulls out of Minhyun, who shudders with oversensitivity—Seongwoo kisses his cheek softly in apology and feels his heart burst with pride when a satisfied smile finds its way onto Minhyun’s face, eyes still closed. As if his heart hasn’t been shaken enough this afternoon.

Though Minhyun is usually the one to take post-sex initiatives, after a solid five minutes of clinging to Seongwoo’s torso it becomes obvious that Minhyun isn’t planning to budge anytime soon. So Seongwoo gently detaches himself from Minhyun’s heavy (and incredibly clingy) limbs to fetch a warm, damp towel from the bathroom. He wipes both of them down and tosses the soiled towel off the bed to land somewhere.

“Don’t just _throw it_ on the floor like that,” mumbles Minhyun, eyes still closed. “There’s a perfectly good laundry basket in the bathroom.”

“Oh my god—just. Shut up for once, please?” whines Seongwoo as he slips back in behind Minhyun. He pulls the covers over both of them, carefully tucking the corners under Minhyun’s arms and smoothing it under his chin.

Minhyun giggles, snuggling further into the soft warmth as he shifts backwards to settle into the recess Seongwoo’s made just for him with his arms. Buzzing heat spreads from his hands to his toes when chest meets back, and Seongwoo can’t help but sigh in contentment.

“Really? That’s not what you said five minutes ago,” teases Minhyun, which Seongwoo returns with a big, sloppy kiss behind his ear.

“Maybe next time I should gag you before we get started.”

“Wow. First, window sex, and now gagging. You’re full of surprises, Ong Seongwoo.”

“You love it.”

Minhyun clutches at the arms around his waist, sighing, “Maybe a little too much.”

Seongwoo leans over Minhyun to peer at him, holding back the goofy, wide smile threatening to break onto his face. “You can never have too much of me.”

And this is his favourite part—having the privilege of making Minhyun laugh, so carefree and uninhibited like this, hair sticking up in five different ways but eyes so clear and bright, skin glowing with the afterglow of love.

“You’re right,” Minhyun says, gazing into Seongwoo’s face like he can see the galaxy in his eyes. Then he reaches up to tuck Seongwoo’s hair back over his ear—more out of affection than the need for grooming. He whispers, “You’re right, and thank you.”

“That’s sweet—but you don’t have to say thank you everytime we fuck, Minhyun.”

“No, I mean—for what you did,” Minhyun smiles. “You made me see myself when I was beautiful.”

“You’re beautiful all the time,” Seongwoo insists, pressing their mouths together firmly but tenderly. “I want you to know that, okay?”

They pull back, and it should be uncomfortable and a little awkward—Seongwoo having to twist to peer at Minhyun, Minhyun craning his neck back to meet his gaze. Yet they can’t break it—they stare and stare and stare at each other until it begins to hurt, like Seongwoo is staring at the sun and his eyes start to water, though he knows it’s not from the intense shine, but something else entirely.

“I love you,” he says, like he’s afraid Minhyun would forget on this Saturday afternoon that is quickly turning into evening. “I love you so much.”

It can never hurt, really, to reaffirm these things.

“I love you, too,” Minhyun presses their noses together—and something like sunshine courses through Seongwoo’s veins, runs through it like a charged firecracker. Powered by its strength, Seongwoo smiles stupidly into Minhyun’s kisses, the bone-deep ache of pleasure settling in his every movement, leaving him feeling wonderfully self-accomplished.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm on <https://curiouscat.me/sealfox> please say hi to me, scream with me over o/h and n/w and distract me from the pains of real life


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